


From Colombia, with love

by FreeShavocadoo



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pining, Telephone Conversations, possible steve/javier if you're inclined, two gays in love, utter fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 10:12:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18871111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreeShavocadoo/pseuds/FreeShavocadoo
Summary: His fingers brush against the phone, uncertain and timid. He knows the number off by heart, by this point, even though he’s withheld from calling for months now. But it was months he’d spent longing for the man that make him aware if he doesn’t hear his voice, the delicate lilt of his Spanish, he’s going to go insane. For a moment, his fingers hover over the buttons, uncertain. Then he dials with such speed, he can’t give himself a chance to back out.





	From Colombia, with love

It was like a constant ache in his stomach, a longing, one that he carried with him everywhere. He saw it in the colours of the sunset, in the crumpled sheets he woke up beside in the morning, or even in the empty coffee pot. Absence is always hard to define individually, as loss is entirely unique to your perspective and situation. For Pen͂a, his loss was a weight he carried around when he’d turn to speak to someone who wasn’t there, or a door he’d open to an empty desk and chair. It almost felt like he’d lost a limb, something he’d become so used to as part of a routine that without it, he feels helpless. Part of him wonders if Carrillo is turning to speak to somebody he realises is hours away, looking around and seeing a multitude of faces he can’t trust.

His fingers brush against the phone, uncertain and timid. He knows the number off by heart, by this point, even though he’s withheld from calling for months now. But it was months he’d spent longing for the man that make him aware if he doesn’t hear his voice, the delicate lilt of his Spanish, he’s going to go insane. For a moment, his fingers hover over the buttons, uncertain. Then he dials with such speed, he can’t give himself a chance to back out.

It doesn’t take long for him to simultaneously regret and applaud his decision.

“Hello?” The voice is tired, slightly gravelly from what Pen͂a can only assume is lack of sleep. Carrillo’s voice used to sound like that in the morning.

“It’s me,” he replies after a pause, before mentally hitting himself, “Pen͂a.”

A small chuckle. “Thank you for clarifying.”

Pen͂a grasps the phone tighter in his hand, the feeling of pure need only expanding in his stomach, the small laugh replaying in his head. He’s sure he can practically see Carrillo’s bleary-eyed, sleep-deprived face as his eyes crinkle, and he looks away fondly.

_God, I miss him._

“So…,” Pen͂a’s never felt so awkward when it comes to Carrillo. Shy? Yes, in an odd sense. Giddy and excited? Always. But never awkward. “How have you been?”

“Busy.” Carrillo sounds amused, his voice still gravelly, but more playful. “Do you want a run-down of my day?”

Pen͂a stares out of his window, fiddling with a loose thread on his shirt and wanting nothing more in the world than to see Carrillo standing in front of him, handsome and proud. His fingers twitch, as if the mere thought of Carrillo is enough to spur his body into action, the longing so intense he aches.

“Why not?” Pen͂a chuckles, deciding that if the only way he can have Carrillo now is to hear his voice, then it’s something he’ll happily settle for. “You do love to talk about work.”

Carrillo laughs again, Pen͂a is certain he’s turned his face away from the phone to do so, which just makes it more endearing. There was always something oddly shy about his laugh. “I suppose I do.”

“Then talk.” Pen͂a says, sitting down and lighting a cigarette with the phone tucked between his shoulder and face.

“Making yourself comfortable?” Carrillo teases, Pen͂a chuckling around his cigarette.

“Of course, I think I might be here for a while.” Pen͂a says, maybe hoping that he will be here for a while. Long enough for the ache to dissipate until the next morning he wakes up alone in his bed.

“There’s not really anything exciting to talk about.” Pen͂a’s heart drops for a moment, certain that Carrillo will hang up the phone after telling Pen͂a that it’s been a long day, that he doesn’t want to spend what little free time he does have in his day talking to someone who shouldn’t be ringing him in the middle of the night.

“It’s more subdued here,” he continues, Pen͂a inhaling from his cigarette, “the corruption certainly isn’t as obvious.”

Pen͂a hums, not really caring much about the sound of his own voice right now, preferring the melodic and hushed tones of Carrillo’s sleepy Spanish, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Half of them think I’m a respectable and adequate leader, and the other half think I was sent there for being criminally violent and insane.” Carrillo says with such a straight and level voice, Pen͂a guffaws, the cigarette dangling in his mouth dropping onto his lap.

“ _Fuck_.” He flings it into the ashtray, no instant or remarkable damage other than an ash stain on his jeans, more the shock than anything.

“You dropped your cigarette, didn’t you, Javi?” Carrillo chuckles, the fondness so clear in his voice that Pen͂a is almost glad he nearly burned his own thigh with a cigarette. “You’re such a liability.”

“I miss you.” Pen͂a blurts out, too overwhelmed with hearing Carrillo’s voice after so long, hearing the affection and bemusement. It’s blanketed him in pure and primal need, a desire so strong he feels lightheaded.

There’s a long pause. “I miss you too.” He replies in a voice so solemn, so sad all of a sudden, that Pen͂a realises he’s not the only one who’s been left with a gap in his life, a feeling of loneliness that follows him even when he’s surrounded by people.

“Can you just tell me about your day?” Pen͂a tries not to sound too needy, though he’s positive that even if it weren’t the man who knew him inside out they’d still be able to detect it. “Please?”

“Of course I can, Javi.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

They talk about everything and nothing in particular. Their work, though never in massive detail, their day in general, their plans. Pen͂a never strays too closely to anything about Escobar, and Carrillo never asks, both too aware of how attached they both are to the case, their current predicament coming as a result of it. Carrillo gives good advice to Pen͂a, especially since he needs a calmer and more refined presence than Steve, who, though he means well, tends to be too hot-headed and opinionated for impartial advice.

Carrillo even asks how Steve is doing, which makes Pen͂a laugh delightedly, much to his chagrin.

“Do you want me to get him on the phone for you, sometime?” He teases, grinning like a fool in his empty apartment.

Carrillo scoffs. “I’d think you would avoid that entirely,” he sounds smug, “you are the jealous type, after all.”

It’s Pen͂a’s turn to scoff, now. “ _Steve?_ You mean happily married, kicks his car when it won’t start like that will fix it, Steve?”

“That’s the one,” Carrillo laughs, “stop acting as though your jealousy has ever been rational.”

Pen͂a pauses, considering the statement. “I suppose you’re right. But weren’t you the one who was jealous of Steve when he first got here?”

He’d probably never have said something like that to Carrillo’s face, not because he would ever take it the wrong way or become aggressive, but more out of his own embarrassment, in a sense. To acknowledge something like this would have him also having to acknowledge he’d been watching Carrillo so closely he could spot the signs; his reluctance to get to know Steve to begin with, his exclusion from anything Carrillo was planning, the subtle scathing stares and insistence to speak as much Spanish as possible in front of him.

“Not one of my finest moments, I must admit.” Carrillo says, as honest and blunt as ever. “You’re the one who went around calling him your _partner_ when you hadn’t even known each other for a week.”

Pen͂a laughs, a belly-laugh that has him shaking and huffing profusely. He can hear Carrillo laugh softly in response to his outburst. “But he _is_ my partner.”

“Hmph.” Pen͂a can hear Carrillo shaking his head, still laughing quietly. “You sure know how to pick them.”

“I really do.” Pen͂a says, with little attempt to hide the adoration. The distance had left him worrying very little about the small things, the giveaways that he was completely and irreversibly in love with this man. Carrillo had never really deliberately disguised his affection, but was always more subdued than Pen͂a. It takes them speaking over the phone, by this point, every other night, for Pen͂a to realise just how much Carrillo loves him back. He has to make more of an effort over the phone than he did in person, no body-language to rely on, no longing stares or actions. But now he can hear it in every syllable, in every small breath and laugh.

“Tell me about your day.” Pen͂a settles down, drink by his side and the lights dim in the room.

“Of course, Javi.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I love these two so much as a pairing. Comments ALWAYS appreciated :) let me know what you think!


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